I tarry near the scarlet roses—
Darcy, Amalia, and George—
who flaunt their provocative colors
and sway like bailadoras.
They bend toward me,
toss their petals across my face,
and proposition me: Stay
awhile. Admire our blooms.
Touch our inner parts.
I embrace each flower—
three, five, fifteen at once—
and tremble, mesmerized
by their perfume. I swear
I’ll remember each silky petal
and never disclose our lust
in the height of spring
when passions can overcome
the most sensible of us,
even a hybrid rose.
These past 20 years, no one
has chosen my fragrance,
adored my buds, taken me home
to place in a crystal vase.
No one has gazed at my ovaries
in a daily rite of ecstasy.
I’d welcome the palpitations
of a stranger’s knee
brushing mine beneath
the library table.
I wouldn’t report him
to the authorities.
work has been published in Writing In A Woman’s Voice, Verse Virtual, The Pangolin Review, Better Than Starbucks, Altadena Poetry Review, Okay Donkey, and elsewhere. A librarian for 40 years, she founded, coordinated, and led a public reading series from 2003-2014. She has served on the Selection Committees for The Altadena Literary Review in 2020 and The Altadena Poetry Review from 2015-2019. She has also co-edited the 2017 and 2018 editions. Pauli holds an MLIS degree from the University of Southern California.
